


In the Big Bed

by zetsubonna



Series: All American Bicycle [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Anal Plug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, F/M, Femdom, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyfidelity, Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes, Sharing Clothes, Spanking, Submissive Steve, aromantic natasha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 23:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 7,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2670161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubonna/pseuds/zetsubonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The making and keeping of a Barbershop Quartet</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Through His Stomach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED:   
> Request: Steve & Bucky taking Sam out on a date! The man deserves some love, okay, and those two are possibly the best qualified to give it to him. :)

"You’re not serious," Sam said, standing back and taking in the storefront, grinning incredulously. "How did I not know about this?"

"I do not know," Steve said. "I’ve been here a dozen times."

"It’s his default date spot," Bucky deadpanned.

"It is not!" Steve said, smacking Bucky’s shoulder. "I don’t have a default date spot. Jesus."

"I’m totally lying," Bucky agreed. "But Nat and I made him bring us here, separately and then together, before we agreed it would work for you."

"I’m glad it was so thoroughly screened," Sam said dryly, chuckling when Steve opened the door for them. "I’m also flattered, Buck. Dress hoodie?"

"Sans dragons, grenades, guns, swears, sexy lady silhouettes  _and_  cat hair,” Bucky agreed, nodding. “Basic black. Very classy.”

"Flattered," Sam repeated, tugging his ponytail before sliding into the booth next to him and beaming a smile across the table at Steve. "Are you ordering for us?"

"I, uh, I know what Bucky wants," Steve admitted. "But I wanted you to have a chance to look, first." He handed Sam the menu with the day’s offerings on it. "What looks good?"

"Damn, this is impressive," Sam murmured, scanning the menu. "What are you getting?"

"Crab and cheddar," Bucky said. "S’Friday."

"You’re getting back into the Catholic thing pretty hard, huh?"

"Eh," Bucky shrugged, his left hand resting lightly on Sam’s thigh. "Not  _too_  hard. Still sinfully shackin’ up with Spangles over there. N’datin’ this sexy Air Force fella, you know, on the side. Still goin’ to Hell, just pickin’ my own handbasket.”

Sam snickered. Steve rolled his eyes. “How about you, Steve?”

"Beer and bratwurst," Steve said, grinning. "Haven’t tried it yet."

"Have you tried the sausage and tomato fennel?" Sam asked.

"No," Steve admitted. "That what you want?"

"Yeah, let’s give that a shot," Sam agreed, flipping over to the dessert listing. "Holy shit. Four kinds of apple pie? Did they know you were coming?"

"No," Steve said, blushing, just as Bucky smirked and said, "Yes."

Sam laughed. “I’m kidding. And neither of us are going to make an inappropriate joke about what Steve actually likes for dessert, are we Buck?”

"Noooo," Bucky drew out. "Absolutely not."

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna go get the dinner pie.”


	2. The Speech

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat explains the rules to her new boys.

"We need to have a conversation," Natasha said, sitting at Sam’s dining room table.

"We do," Sam agreed.

"We do," Steve said firmly.

Natasha peered over her shoulder. “Barnes?”

"Sam’s baking cookies," Bucky said. "I’m checking on the cookies."

"Can you hear me?"

“ _No, I was trained as an assassin for seventy years, I have terrible multidirectional awareness,_ " Bucky replied in sarcastic Russian.

“ _Don’t be an asshole,_ " Natasha retorted. " _Or I will reserve my offer to Sam and Steve_.”

"What?" Bucky said, leaning around the corner.

"You heard me," Natasha said, crossing her legs and turning her back to him. "I’ve been on four dates with Sam, two dates with Steve, and two dates with Steve and Bucky."

"About that," Steve began, but Natasha held up a finger, so he fell silent.

"I need to make something perfectly clear. I am aromantic. I don’t feel romantic affection for anyone. I am incapable, for various reasons, none of which I am required to explain or justify. However, I am not asexual. I am, like Sam, pansexual."

"Called it!" Sam said, and Bucky laughed.

Natasha smirked. “Now, here’s what I need you to recite and remember if we’re going to get physical, which I know is usually date three for Sam- I appreciate your patience- and date two for Steve- I appreciate your patience- and date ten for Bucky.”

"I’m trying!" Bucky called.

"I know. I appreciate that."

"I’m old," Bucky elaborated. "I still play by forties rules."

"We know," Sam, Steve and Natasha all called back.

"Date two?" Sam elbowed Steve.

Steve swatted at him.

"I am sleeping with Clint, periodcally, platonically," Natasha interrupted.

"We figured that," Steve said, nodding.

"I would be sleeping with all of you periodically and platonically as well," Natasha said, giving him a faint smile. "You are all dating each other, right?"

"Engaged!" Bucky called from the kitchen.

"Since when?" Sam, Steve and Natasha all said at the same time.

"Since now!" Bucky was heard opening the refrigerator. "Steve and I are practically married anyway. Objections?"

Steve rolled his eyes. “Not marrying you without a formal proposal.”

"Considering dumping you," Sam added.

"Liars," Bucky ducked around the corner. "You both love me the best."

"Shut up, Buck," Sam said, crumpling a napkin and chucking it at his head.

"Repeat after me," Natasha said. "Natasha is our non-committed aro sex friend. She does not have and does not require a boyfriend."

Sam and Steve weighed this, exchanging looks.

"Natasha is our non-committed aro sex friend. She does not have and does not require a boyfriend," Bucky recited.

"Thank you. Gentlemen?"

"Nat is our non-committed aro sex friend. She does not have and does not require a boyfriend," Steve said.

"Natasha is our non-committed aro sex friend. She does not have and does not require a boyfriend. Steve and Bucky are my boyfriends, and that is too much crazy for anybody anyway," Sam improvised.

"Second set of cookies goes to Sam," Natasha noted.

"Boyfriends?" Steve said, blinking.

"He only agreed to you because we’re a package deal," Bucky called from the kitchen.

"Not wholly inaccurate," Sam said, nodding and suppressing a smile.

Steve sighed. Natasha ruffled his hair. “Steve doesn’t need cookies anyway,” she noted. “He’s already a toothache.”


	3. Her Man Harem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ANONYMOUS ASKED:
> 
> Though they are a happy barbershop quartet, Natasha has her own room while Bucky, Sam, and Steve share a bed. Bucky loves to go visit Nat's room on Tuesday mornings for sleepy (consensual), gentle sex. Steve comes in to be dominated on Sunday afternoons. Sam loves to stop by her room on Thursday nights so they can kiss, cuddle and rub each other off. All the boys miss her in their big comfy bed.

It’s Saturday night, and Steve makes a quiet little sound when he topples to the bed beside Bucky that earns curiosity.

"Jumpstart on tomorrow," Steve explains, then swats Bucky’s hand when he goes to adjust the plug. "Quit it. Nat’s the only one who can mess with it."

"Nat’s the worst," Bucky declares, flopping the other way and curling around Sam instead. "What’s she gonna have you sleeping in next, panties?"

"Don’t give her any ideas," Steve grumbles, trying to get comfortable.

★ 

 It’s Tuesday night and, after dinner, Bucky comes lazily back to their bedroom and sprawls out on the covers, grinning smugly. Sam takes in that sprawl, his still-damp, messy bun, that grin, and laughs as he bonks Bucky with his pillow.

"Be a little more obvious," he teases.

"She’s so good to me," Bucky sighs, dreamy, still grinning. "Isn’t she good?"

"She’s the best," Sam agrees, then snaps his fingers at Steve as he comes through the door. "No."

"I know," Steve says. "No tablets in bed, I’m just doing a- thing. Buck, what are you wearing?"

"Pajama pants and a well-laid smile?"

"Those are my pants," Steve notes. "They don’t even fit you right."

"Left ‘em in Nat’s hamper, makes ‘em fair game," Bucky reasons.

★ 

It’s Friday morning, and Natasha’s wrapped around Sam on the couch while Bucky and Steve make breakfast.

"We missed you two last night," Bucky complains, flipping the bacon.

"How come we can stay with you," Steve adds, "But you almost never stay with us?"

"You know you have a standing invitation to the big bed," Sam murmurs, trailing his fingers through her hair.

"I know," Natasha says. "I appreciate that, it’s special to me."

"But?" Bucky prompts.

"But four people in one bed requires snuggling, cuddling and squishing yourself up tiny, especially if you’re trying to fit with three big guys, at least one of which, however they deny it, is probably going to try to pet you, smell your hair, or otherwise set off a sexolanche-"

"Sexolanche?!" Bucky laughs so hard that Steve swats him with a dishtowel. 

"-it’s not at all restful, and I go to bed to sleep," Natasha finishes. 

★ 

When Natasha does decide to sleep in the big bed,  _she_  sets off the sexolanche. Bucky points this out to her to win three consecutive arguments.


	4. Ticklish Whiskers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FEANORINLEATHERPANTS ASKED:  
> Terrible at prompts sometimes, so I'm going to ask for some straight up smut. Bucky/Sam and ear nibbling/biting.

Everybody has their own way of doing things.

Steve’s always been the same way, since the second time. The first time was sort of an accident, but from the second time on, he’s come to recognize that look. Any other fella, it would look like he wanted to tangle, wanted to fight, the way his eyes come along his nose and his jaw gets just this stubborn little set to it, but Bucky knows the difference between  _I want you_  and  _I want to hit you_. It’s in the eyes, in the shoulders, in the barely held back little smirk when Bucky immediately comes to heel. That look goes right to Bucky’s dick, he can’t help it, it’s a learned response.

Natasha’s a cat. At first, he’s  not sure, can’t be sure, if proximity and a set of carefully trimmed nails slowly dragging along the back of his neck means she’s trying to pet him or she wants to be petted. Hell, even climbing into his lap might not mean she wants to fool around, she’s a cat, she treats people like furniture, once they’ve made it past the hundred thousand trust barriers. She more or less has to actively grab him by the dick for him to know what’s going on, but that’s okay. She is always kind enough to gently put Mavra or Liho out of his lap before she does it, so all of his gals are happy.

Bucky’s never much cared for fellas with facial hair, but Sam’s thing, that changes his mind. Sex with Nat is almost always athletic and gets a sweat going, sex with Steve can be anything from quick, rough head to fifteen hours with breaks for sandwiches and cartoons and a cats-included nap. Sam’s different. Sam’s slow and sweet and lazy, like he can’t ever be bothered to go faster than ten miles under the damn limit, and Bucky  _likes_  that, he likes that Sam takes fuckin’ forever and always makes him feel like he’s going to sleep afterwards for about three days. Bucky can’t sleep so good, usually, so Sam being enough to put him out is a good thing.

Sam leans over the back of the couch while Bucky’s working on his knitting, buried under Mavra, Sergei, Maxim  _and_  Liho (he’s cat sitting while Nat’s off somewhere vague with Barton, probably killing more than one somebody) and his beard grazes the top of Bucky’s ear. Bucky closes his eyes, lets the smile stretch across his face.

"It’s pretty quiet today," Sam observes, full lips caressing the shell of Bucky’s ear, the tickle of his beard right on the lobe. "You want some lunch?"

"Soup," Bucky requests, because Sam’s learned his lesson about canned shit and now makes the best goddamn  _sopa de ajo_  in the continental United States.

"I think I can do that," Sam agrees, without moving back in the slightest. He punctuates it with a soft, lingering kiss, and Bucky’s going to sleep for at least seven hours when Sam’s done with him, it’s almost enough to make him wiggle. "Grilled chicken, maybe? Beer?"

"Not domestic," Bucky says, closing his eyes and leaning his head to one side.

"Picky," Sam scolds, but he doesn’t mean it, doesn’t even change the breathy tone of his voice. "You gonna help cut vegetables, or sit here being good looking and relatively useless?"

Three more kisses. Those whiskers tickle something  _awful_ , God, he adores it. There goes Sam’s fingers up the inside of his arm. Fuck, this fella. Steve always did know how to pick ‘em.

"Lemme finish this row."

"Okay," Sam acquiesces, and there’s the seal on the deal, one more, slower kiss and then the graze of Sam’s beard across the top of Bucky’s ear, and Bucky laughs silently, shaking his head and squirming so Liho’s not quite so precariously close to his hard on. "You ever gonna start wearin’ real pants?"

"Easy access," Bucky points out, smirking, and Sam laughs, shaking his head.


	5. Everybody Wins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous Request: Barbershop Quartet daisy chain? :3 Making it a game to see who can get off their designated person first?

“It wasn’t a fair contest,” Steve says, and Bucky snickers into the side of his neck.

“Nah,” Sam says, eyes closed, nose in Natasha’s hair. “You had every advantage.”

“Don’t be a sore loser, Rogers,” Natasha says, pressing the latest in a series of kisses to Sam’s collarbone. “We’ve all heard you bragging.”

“He did good,” Bucky says, still snickering. “Four minutes is four minutes, dollface. You just underestimated him, that’s all.”

“What happened to that thing you told Fury?” Steve teases, though the sulk is still evident in the line between his eyebrows. “You’re supposed to be slower.”

“Mm, well,” Sam says, stretching so far he flexes his toes. “There’s the small matter of your tricks being throat-centric, and mine being all about the lips.”

“He does have gorgeous lips, Stevie,” Bucky says.

“Aesthetic aside,” Natasha drawls, digging her nails into Sam’s chest to get him to stop wiggling. “They  _feel_  really good.”

“Besides, I’ll teach you,” Sam says, pulling Natasha’s nails loose and kissing her fingers. “It’s a lot easier to get better at using your lips than it is to learn how not to have a gag reflex.”

“I guess that’s fair,” Steve concedes.

“Still the best cocksucker in Brooklyn,” Bucky assures him, snorting on a giggle.

“Shut up,” Steve says, punching him in the hip. “You’re the one who can’t get off as fast as Nat.”

“That’s entirely your problem,” Natasha yawns. “Now, everybody shut up, or I’m going back to my room.”


	6. Kink Negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon Prompt: BuckyNat, attempting (failing at?) age-play.

“I give up,” Natasha announces, stomping into the kitchen in her high heels.

“Come on, I’ll quit, I promise,” Bucky says.

“What did he do this time?” Sam asks from where he is very patiently painting Steve’s toenails.

“I’m not going to do any more roleplay with Mister Giggles,” Natasha says, taking out the orange juice and gesturing to the cabinet. “He’s an asshole.”

“I can’t help it,” Bucky says, fetching her a glass. “Look, Natashenka, I swear-”

“We went to Catholic school,” Steve says. “Your skirt is too short, he can’t get into character. Wear something ankle-length and and a crucifix and start smacking him with a ruler, he’ll act right.”

“Rogers, don’t you dare-” Bucky starts.

“Sister Helena, wasn’t it, Barnes? Only nun in the whole school could see right through his bullshit. Paddled him once and he jerked off to it for two years.”

Natasha reevaluates her outfit, then Bucky’s blush, sipping her juice.

“I can work with that,” she says, eyes narrowed, voice low and dangerous.

Bucky squeaks.

Sam sits back and indicates he's finished. Steve smirks and wiggles his toes.


	7. Old Marrieds and New Additions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon Request: Steve gets turned back into SkinnySteve for some reason, and everyone is surprised when S!Steve is still just as dominant and in control as Big Steve - except Bucky, who's been dominated by Steve since he met him.

Steve glared angrily down at the map in front of him and bellowed orders, continually smacking his glasses when they slid down his nose until he was too deep in concentration to notice.

He argued with everyone, pushing himself up on the balls of his feet, his orthopedic shoes quietly creaking. When he decided he’d had enough of listening to their protests, he motioned to Clint, who came over and showed him how to turn his hearing aid off.

Natasha overheard Sam whispering to Bucky.

“Was he always-”

“Oh, what, history thought the serum made him smarter?” Bucky drawled. “Nope. This was always Stevie. The serum gave him the stuff to get through paratrooper school, but he pushed the old chassis through Basic. He’s always been this.”

Natasha caught the smirk on Sam’s face and rolled her eyes, knowing what kind of question he’d lower his voice for.

“Every other night,” Bucky purred in response, slurping his coffee.


	8. The Spy Who Has Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Steve, Bucky, and Sam shopping for a gift for their not!girlfriend.

**SW** :Are we allowed to do this?

 **SR** : I never ask that question.

 **JB** : Steve never asks that question.

 **SR** : Told you.

 **SW** : I just have one boyfriend who happens to inhabit two bodies with no common sense.

 **JB** : Essentially.

 **SR** : Basically.

 **SW** : Fml. Anyway, jerkass 1 & 2, what’s the plan?

 **SR** : We’re going to the sex toy store, the ice cream store, and the Apple store.

 **JB** : Because nobody wants Tony’s fucking tentacles in their business.

 **SW** : Why not the Stark store?

 **SW** : Damn it, Barnes.

 **JB** : You’re both very predictable. Anyway, a quart of Cherries Jubilee, a new harness, yes I have her measurements, an Apple watch, blue, maybe one of those nice cards with glitter or paste gems?

 **SW** : Fuck you, Barnes.

 **SR** : See, this is why we keep him.

 **SW** : Maybe it's why you do. I have other reasons. Sometimes I like a gag reflex.

 **JB** : ...Just bring the car, Sam.

 **SW:** I won again, didn't I?

 **SR:** The reigning Sam-pion!

 **JB** : Screw both of you, you liars. You keep changing my damned mission handle to 'Murder Thighs,' I know it’s you and when I figure out which of you I am going to spank you left-handed.

 **SR** : Is that supposed to be a punishment?

 **SW:**  Captain Kinky strikes again.

 **JB:** I am rolling my eyes so fucking hard rn.


	9. Housebreaking Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: fic request, if it interests you: bucky barnes' first time with a sex toy?

Steve is doing better than Sam expected with all of this.

Bucky’s issues are not limited to a few. He’s snappish, an erratic sleeper, he’s re-learning how to have conversations, how to make decisions, how to have preferences, how to have opinions, how to  _person_ , and Steve is handling it really well.

Natasha is helping, of course. She seems satisfied with Bucky’s progress, Bucky’s _learning_  to do all the things he was taught would result in pain, in torture, in punishment, in erasure.

He draws in a deep breath.

“Hey, Barnes? Need to talk to you a sec.”

Bucky looks wary. He instantly shrinks three inches and Sam eases his face into a gentle, steadying smile.

“You ain’t in trouble, it’s just a minor point of etiquette, okay?”

Bucky nods, silent, waiting.

Sam hands him the parcel, neatly wrapped in a hand-towel.

“It’s perfectly okay to use this in the tub whenever you want. It’s a little awkward to leave it to dry in your hair brush bucket on the edge of the sink.”

Bucky nods again, his eyes lowered.

“Ain’t mad,” he says. “You ain’t in trouble. You didn’t know. Now you know, and everything’s fine again. Okay?”

Bucky glances up at him, then drops his eyes again, nodding.

Sam pats his shoulder and waits until he gets to his own room to drop his smile and cover his face with his hand. He picks up his phone and texts Steve and Natasha on their Bucky-related group chat.

_Which one of you jackasses bought him a stroker and didn’t tell him about sex toy etiquette? It was six inches from my goddamned toothbrush._


	10. You Like Being Hit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon Request: steve + spanking?

He remembers his mother’s spankings, because Sarah was the only adult who didn’t flinch from the idea of striking her little boy, yanking him close by the elbow and swatting him right through the seat of his patched trousers because he’d scared the living Hell out of her doing some foolish thing that demonstrated his lifelong  _utter lack of common sense, Steven, are you trying to give me a heart attack_? And the spank is always followed by the tightest hug her thin arms can manage, his face buried in her small bosom while they both sob, Sarah from fear and Steve from guilt, because he was  _sorry, Mama_  and he  _didn’t mean it_ , he promised.

Beatings are different, beatings come from everywhere, mostly guys who don’t like his mouth, including the one Jesuit history teacher who had enough with being corrected and questioned and countered by a  _wise-ass twelve year old_ , and it’s his first and last encounter with a wooden paddle, because Father Donovan intervenes with Sister Mary Angelica and _Steven is not ever to be physically disciplined, not even with so much as a ruler_ , but that one time, with that paddle, he was proudest of himself when he did not flinch or cry out, and Bucky told him he was  _fucking crazy, Stevie, and I don’t care if I get Hail Marys for it, there ain’t no excuse, you’re fucking nuts, why can’t you shut up?_

Bucky’s spanks are light, playful and, eventually Steve comes to understand, possessive, marking  _that narrow behind_  as something he finds deeply interesting, _bewitching_ , _fascinating_ , it drives him crazy, and Steve can hit Bucky’s ass, too, and Bucky will just make surprised sounds of indignation, jumping half a foot in the air, unless he knows it’s coming, and then he makes  _wanton, obscene_  sounds instead, and Steve blushes so hard Bucky laughs in his face.

Peggy muttered something, when he ticked her off, about a  _riding crop_. Steve went red and Bucky laughed so hard he choked on one of the peppermints she brought him special. He never gets that spanking and he daydreams about it at least once a week.

Sam knows what he’s doing. His hand is the best: even, precise, strong enough to  _turn those little white cheeks pink_ , even if it fades pretty quick. He introduces Steve, too, to better paddles, leather-bound paddles specifically for consensual adult spankings, whisk-like little floggers, and new, beautifully fashioned, special ordered crops, on which Steve politely passes.

Natasha offered. He’s thinking about it.


	11. Rear View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon: For a prompt, I want Bucky being an ass man, appreciating all of the fabulous posteriors that have graced his life.

Bucky vaguely remembers his dance hall days, the girls he spun around in their fluffy, frilly skirts, learning to swing and box step and fox trot. He mostly remembers their chests against his, the scent of various perfumes, the brush of silky hair against his neck, but he’s teaching Natasha a step when his hand brushes her backside and he’s jolted with a memory of a gorgeous, dark haired girl in pink lipstick and a yellow dress, her bottom warm and round under his hand, and when he comes back to himself, he’s curled up in a ball, and Natasha’s crouched across from him.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks her, rasping and hoarse, and she shakes her head no.

“What was it?” she asks.

Bucky laughs, low and humorless, eyes on the floor. “You got a smaller tail than the last girl I danced with regular,” he says, then glances up at her. “It’s still real nice, though.”

She rolls her eyes, but he knows which version of a straight line is Natasha’s real smile.

* * *

Steve was always little below the waist. Bucky and Sam trade quiet, admiring mutters about his ass, and when Sam mutters, “The things we can do with that narrow behind,” Bucky goes quiet for a minute.

 _That narrow behind_ , he remembers, when it was even smaller, how he could cover the whole thing in his hands, grab it and lift it and pin Steve to the wall without even an effort. The first time he got his hands on it after it got a little bigger, how Steve moaned, relieved Bucky still  _wanted_  him.  _Didn’t think you would_ , he’d said,  _Figured I was too butch for you now_.

 _Still got a narrow behind, though,_  Bucky had returned.  _I wouldn’t mind slipping it to you_.

He sips his hard cider when he comes back to the moment, and Sam brushes their upper arms together.

“You okay?”

“I’m good,” Bucky assures him, making eye contact so Sam can be sure. “Just thinking about that ass.”

Sam snickers fitfully, and Steve looks up and narrows his eyes at them, suspicious, so Bucky blows him a kiss, which makes Steve’s brows furrow as he goes back to being terrible at dodging Natasha’s kicks.

* * *

“I know,” Sam says, and Bucky blinks.

“What?” he asks, not allowing his running pattern to screw up his breathing.

“It’s a damn work of art,” Sam says, and Bucky watches the smile crooking the corners of his mouth.

“Enlighten me,” Bucky says, increasing his speed just a fraction so he and Sam can look at each other more easily. “The fuck are you talking about, Sam my lamb?”

“My ass,” Sam says, pleased. “You can’t tell me that ain’t why you were running behind me. You were checkin’ me out.”

“It’s definitely  _big_ ,” Bucky drawls, “But I don’t know if I’d say it was a work of art.”

“Liar,” Sam says, confident. “You’re into it. You hang on to it real enthusiastically when we’re foolin’ around.”

Bucky considers. Sam’s ass looks good in jeans, in running shorts, in his underwear when he’s having a no-pants day. It’s pretty nice when he’s naked, when it’s tight and straining when Sam’s dick is in Steve’s mouth, or relaxed in the shower with suds sliding down it. It feels good, too, solid but with a springy give to it, Bucky  _does_  like grabbing it when they’re making out on the sofa or in the bed.

“It ain’t bad,” he says, casual. “I’m in favor.”

“Uh huh,” Sam returns, dropping his hand and smacking Bucky’s butt. “Speed up, Steve’s gonna lap us again in a minute, gotta look like we’re tryin’.”


	12. Grocery Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: "Sam/Steve. Grocery Shopping."
> 
> Z notes: Steve is a fucking food hipster.

“What are you doing?”

“Grocery shopping.”

“Steve,” Sam sighed. “You don’t have to-”

“Do you want to come?” Steve asked. “Because I’m going to do it the way I always do it, and you complained the last four times.”

“Because I don’t understand why you- no, you know what? I do understand. I just think you’re taking it about ten miles further than you need to.”

“He going to the store?” Bucky asked.

“Yes,” Sam and Steve replied at the same time, equally testy.

“Okay, number one,” Bucky handed Sam the already open orange juice container, and Sam began to drink out of it, shaking his head. Bucky scooped Liho off the couch, where she had been eyeballing Steve’s grocery bag entirely too speculatively. “Steve, you are not going to single-handedly change the entire food economy of the western world, even if you do eat enough in a week to last anybody else a month.”

“I just-” Steve began, glowering, but Bucky lifted one finger and flicked it from left to right and Steve fell silent. Sam snickered, but Bucky cuffed him lightly in the back of the head.

“Number two, Sam, he spent the first twenty-four years of his life throwing up everything he tried to put in his mouth unless it was measured within a quarter of an ounce and cooked until it tasted like paper. If he’s eating eight meals a day, he’s buying the groceries, and it’s no skin off your nose, literally none, if he does hit fifteen goddamn markets in one trip. He’s not making you go, he’s not making you carry anything, all you have to do is cook. Just  _deal_.”

"What the Hell are you wearing?” Sam asked.

“I’m a dragon,” Bucky sniffed. “Barton found it on a cosplay site from Canada, it’s the best goddamn hoodie in my whole collection.”

“You’re in love with Barton,” Steve accused.

“Well, I’m not leaving you two for him, if that’s what you mean,” Bucky sniffed, rubbing noses with Liho. “He can’t keep house  _or_  cook, he doesn’t suck dick, and Lucky doesn’t like cats.”


	13. Comm Codes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> headcanon in fic form: Steve and Bucky keeping track of each others' spoon count

It started in the ‘30s, when they were first sleeping together.

“Thanks,” Steve said, “But no, Buck, not tonight. My back hurts.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, and that was that.

“Thanks,” Steve said, “But no, Buck, not tonight. I’m nauseous.”

“I’m just so  _angry_ ,” Steve snarled, thumping his fist into the side of the bookshelf. “I just about can’t  _breathe_  I’m so mad.”

“All right, all right. Calm down,” Bucky’d had a great day, and he’d come home so  _hopeful_ , but he wasn’t gonna ask when Steve was already mad enough to spit.

Finally, he sat down by Steve while Steve was reading, leaning his head on his shoulder. “Scale of one to ten,” Bucky said. “How good a mood are you in today?”

“About a seven,” Steve said, leaning his head against Bucky’s. “Why?”

“I’ve been wanting to fool around for like, three  _weeks_ ,” Bucky said, kissing his shoulder, “But you ain’t been in a good state for me to ask.”

Steve laughed softly, nuzzling back at him. “That’s a good way of asking,” he said. “Okay, tell you what. You ask me, just like that. If it’s over five, I’m probably a sure thing. Anything less, don’t bother.”

* * *

Bucky knew Steve hurt. He knew it, it was a given. He didn’t realize how much until he noticed that Steve usually hovered around a three. Maybe once every two or three weeks he’d hit a five or a six. Sevens were like daffodils in the damn snow.

It was kinda flattering, though, that he only ever hit a nine  _after_   they’d had  _really_  good sex.

* * *

While they were in Europe, the scale was how much of a companionable mood  _Peggy_   was in. Between one and three meant she was otherwise engaged and not even Steve should bother her. Four to six meant she was feeling a little more approachable, but she wanted Steve to herself. Seven to nine meant Bucky could come, too.

“What about ten?” Bucky asked, grinning and trying to be sly.

Steve and Peg exchanged looks. Steve shrugged, biting back his own grin. Peggy smiled, running her fingers along the edge of Bucky’s neatly pomaded hair. He'd  _just_  started styling it again, after her very first seven.

“There is no ten,” Peggy said, tilting her chin up. “There is  _always_  room to improve, James. Always.”

* * *

After the ice, Bucky needed space. Sometimes he just wanted to be alone in his own head with his own thoughts, now that he was allowed to have thoughts again. Steve couldn’t always read him as well as he would have liked- Hell, half the time  _Bucky_  didn’t even think about whether or not he was in the mood for company until Steve was already on his last nerve.

“Look,” Bucky said, frowning, his face red with annoyance. “I’m at about two today,  _if that_ , and I really don’t need any of your shit, Steve!”

Steve blinked, backing off immediately. “Oh,” he murmured. “I didn’t realize. Should I just ask like that, then?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, inhaling slowly as he tried to calm down, dragging his hand through his hair. “I think I’m gonna put mine like Peg. Under three,  _fuck off_. Four to six, I can be civil to company. Don’t  _touch_  me under a five, and don’t even  _think_  about foolin’ around if I ain’t at  _least_  a seven.”

“Got it,” Steve said, nodding, kissing his temple. “All you had to say. Sorry, Buck. I’m out of your hair.”

“Christ,  _thank you_.”

* * *

Just being around Sam always brought Bucky’s number up by at least one.


	14. Army Cots and Regulation Nylons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: Love Bucky in the BQ4 bed story. I love slightly petulant, clothes-stealing, huffy because Steve won't let him play with plug Nat's put up Steve's ass and because he missed Sam and Nat on Thursday night. Cute! More of that guy! Maybe during first avenger? Steve/Peggy/Bucky? Pls?

“Goodness!” Peggy murmurs, and Bucky chuckles into his shoulder as he slides another bobby pin into a perfectly twisted coif near the nape of her neck.

“I tried to tell you,” Steve says, sprawled out on the bed, watching them both adoringly.

“I thought you were exaggerating,” Peggy admits, lifting her hand to touch her pinned curls. “He’s a catch, isn’t he?”

“Becky’s idea,” Bucky says, shrugging. “Said if I wanted a dame to keep me beyond a dance hall, I had to be quick elsewhere than my feet, and useful elsewhere than the garage.”

* * *

”Where’s mine?” Bucky murmurs, folding his arms over his chest as Peggy and Steve smile against each others’ lips at the tail end of a slow, lingering kiss.

They laugh, because they know what he wants, and tease him by flanking him and giving soft, brushing kisses to his cheeks, so well synchronized he can’t duck his head and catch either of them on the mouth. Steve and Peggy think they’re so funny, so cute and so clever- Steve makes a low noise of surprise when his mouth ends up on Bucky’s ear and Peggy giggles into Bucky’s mouth, her fingers drifting up to brush over his pomaded hair.

“Hey,” Steve protests, and Bucky flips him a bird, dipping Peggy back like they’re dancing.

“Sergeant Barnes,” Peggy warns after flirting with his bottom lip with her teeth, making him pant softly.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, his hand skimming over her backside when he settles her upright. and then giving it a light spank, just loud enough to be heard. Peggy, wide-eyed and incredulous, smacks his chest lightly with both palms before both of them start laughing.

Steve twists his lips in a pout as Bucky eyes him up and down.

“Can’t dip  _you_  anymore, you big ox,” Bucky says, setting his jaw for a moment, then reaches up and puts both arms around Steve’s neck before going completely dead weight. He’s not heavy, but the surprise makes Steve stagger before his arms reflexively go around Bucky’s waist, and Bucky’s snorting and Peggy’s fighting giggles when Steve realizes what he’s done.

“You’re such a jerk,” Steve mutters.

“I’m a-goddamn-dorable,” Bucky counters. “Kiss me, you fool.”

* * *

“May I ask?” Peggy watches as Bucky twines himself around Steve like a vine, and Steve just moves enough for him to get in where he wants to, not seeming conscious of it beyond the smile that pulls at his lips whenever Bucky touches him.

“Ask what?” Bucky lifts both eyebrows, his gaze flickering to her pretty face, the lipstick thoroughly kissed from it.

“When did you know?” Peggy lifts her hand and brushes Bucky’s tousled hair back from his temple.

“I don’t remember a time when I didn’t,” he says, and Steve opens one eye.

“What are we talking about?” he asks.

“Go back to sleep, Rogers,” Bucky grunts, knocking their heads lightly together. “Grown ups are talking.”

“He’s that sort, isn’t he?” Peggy notes. “Though he can be a bit thick, I’m afraid.”

“‘Tween the two of us, I think we’ve got him,” Bucky says, confident and low, angling his chin upward.

Peggy laughs and kisses him. “Indeed,” she says.

Steve snorts and rolls his eyes.


	15. What Kind of Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starfish requested: If you are in the mood for a fic request: What would the reactions of the avengers/Sam/Bucky be if they saw a recording (that of couse never would exist) of Steve's "transformation". Whatever works better, just a sound recording or video. Now I will go to bed (as it is nearly 4am) Good night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter explicitly describes the physical pain of Steve's transformation, which was not unlike torture.
> 
> Should probably be "medical horror," but I don't want the whole fic tagged for that.

The recording is discovered in the remains of a Hydra facility operating under a Stark Industries front, labeled for research purposes and archived with files Steve, Bucky, Natasha and Sam douse in gasoline before setting them ablaze and getting out. Tony will get over it.

Natasha, being Natasha, keeps the tape, because Steve’s tight-lipped lack of reaction to its existence tipped Steve’s inner circle off to the fact that there was at least one or two things they didn’t know from the Smithsonian.

The scream washes them all out. They’ve never, even  _Bucky_  has never, heard Steve in pain making any noise above an irritated grunt. Bucky understands, in vivid, wretched detail, how completely Steve’s body was altered, and explains it, haltingly and with multiple pauses to clench and unclench his left hand.

“Imagine your bones stretching out ten extra inches, all at once,” he mutters. “They crack and reform themselves as you lay there, everything burning, everything hot. Your skin swells up like a balloon, first for the new height, then for more than a hundred pounds of extra muscle. You go from small enough to blow away in a stiff breeze to the size of a refrigerator. In  _less than a minute_.”

"There were good points,” Steve says, coming in the door, and Natasha has the decency to look somewhat guilty about invading his privacy, while Sam still looks ashen and Bucky rolls, slowly, the shoulder Steve knows is reinforced with adamantium and fused to his torso though holes in his bones.

“Good points,” Bucky echoes, hollow and annoyed, and glances up at him, blue-grey eyes less broken for himself and more infuriated with Steve, an expression Steve long ago learned to live with, almost to love. “Like?”

“ _Breathing_ ,” Steve says flatly, wrinkling his nose. “Seeing colors. Not struggling under my own body weight. Not having to carefully measure and evaluate every single piece of food that ever goes in my mouth to make sure it doesn’t make me vomit or pass out. No more heart palpitations, no more paralyzing fears of tuberculosis or pneumonia, no more winters waiting for Death to come along on a stiff goddamn breeze and take me with him.”

“It was everything at once,” Bucky says, closing his eyes and flexing his left hand again, running the right through his hair. “Every second of pain you’d ever felt, all gathered up and put down on you for ten seconds.”

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Steve says, and Bucky shifts his jaw and scowls at the floor.

“And I can’t fault you for that,” Bucky quietly admits. “I just-”

Steve curls around Bucky from behind, wrapping arms around his ribs and burying his face in dark, fluffy-soft hair.

“I never wanted you to have  _any_  of it,” Bucky says. “I’d have hurt for you if I coulda, Steve, you know that.”

"I do,” Steve says.

“And I never wanted you in the damn war,” Bucky adds, elbowing him in the ribs.

Steve smiles and it’s sad, and Sam and Natasha hate that smile, so Natasha blows a giant raspberry and, while Steve and Bucky are confused, Sam drags everyone into a big hug.

“We should see,” Natasha ventures, sure she’s going to sound silly but willing to risk it anyway. “What it takes to make Steve scream in the fun way.”

Bucky and Sam stare at her.

Steve tries very hard not to grin at her like it’s the best damn idea in the world.

They bump fists, and Sam and Bucky turn on them almost immediately.


	16. Table Settings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: Prompt because I've yet to see a fic like this: Stucky + a spreader bar. :)

Bucky’s not crazy about the idea.

Steve’s curious. He’s  _just_   _curious_  and he’s perfectly fine with being tied up, handcuffed or magnet-locked to things if Bucky’s the guy with the keys.

Bucky’s still not crazy about the idea, but Sam won’t do it. Sam doesn’t like anything rougher than testing Steve’s gag reflex, that’s just the kind of fella he is. Nat’s happy to domme whenever any of her boys wants her to, but Steve’s very particular about this kind of thing.

When Steve is trying something  _new_ , unless it requires his partner have  _opposite genitalia_ , he prefers Bucky. He can’t rightly say if it’s nostalgia, or trying to coax Bucky into trusting himself, or what, and Bucky’s not  _hard opposed_ , he’s just not crazy about the idea. _  
_

Steve won’t coax or wheedle or whine or even bring it up again, as wholly devoted as he is to Bucky’s autonomy, but Bucky knows he doesn’t let go of an idea once he’s had it, it gnaws at him incessantly, so he slowly brings himself around to giving it a shot, because honestly, if Steve hadn’t always had this curious streak, Bucky wouldn’t know half the shit _he_  likes.

Steve’s got amazing calves.

Bucky doesn’t really notice Steve’s legs much. He’s got those eyes, and that hair, and that by-God mouth that kisses and sucks as pretty as it talks and swears and there’s nothing about Steve that Bucky’s ever found less than beautiful, but the posture brings out the muscles in his legs and Bucky’s mesmerized. His thighs, too, Bucky usually just notices Steve’s thighs as an extension of his tight little ass, he doesn’t truly take time to appreciate them on their own aesthetically. They’re pretty hot.

He says so.

“Not as hot as yours,” Nat, Sam and Steve all say at the same time, and Bucky laughs, because Sam’s not even in the damned bedroom and Nat’s supposed to be _supervising_ , not saying anything.

Steve’s hands are cuffed behind his back and he’s at Bucky’s mercy for the better part of twenty minutes before Nat insists on a position shift to keep his circulation from being cut off too much in any one place. That’s long enough for two kinds of lube and four different toys and Steve’s about to go out of his goddamned mind by the time they’ve wrangled him into a new position and started cooperating to get him worn out and undone.

Bucky’s still not crazy about the idea, but he’s not closed off to it. Not anymore.


	17. Best of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked: So if Bucky has the best thighs, what are the other members of the OT4's best physical features? Would they all agree on the same things or would they have dissenting opinions?

Everyone would say Nat’s hair, even Nat. She has the best hair. Only Bucky’s is as fluffy and can be petted because it never looks as nice, but touching Nat’s hair is a privilege usually restricted to Sam.

Sam’s smile is fucking contagious even when you are depressed as shit as Steve and Bucky often are.

Steve tried to withdraw himself from comparison because his body is science but Bucky says his eyes were always that pretty and Sam and Nat thought Steve’s eyes were pretty anyway so they go with that even though it makes Steve blush because that fucker cannot take a compliment.

Sam can, though. Sam will take all of the compliments, so when they get bored of saying his smile and start saying his ass (Bucky) and his shoulders (Steve) and his stomach (Nat) and his beard (also Bucky), he just agrees and beams at them because it is truth. He is gorgeous and he knows it.


	18. Yowling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon requested: Prompt, Steve is sick so Bucky sings him a lullaby to make him go to sleep? (Whether or not that actually works is up to you!)

For all Steve liked to tease Bucky that he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, he did have a better grasp on music than just about anybody Steve knew, probably because when he couldn’t find a dame to drag to a dance hall, but he still had date money somehow, he’d go down to Harlem and see if he couldn’t drop his change into door charges fees at jazz halls. He’d memorize the songs as best he could, try to find them on the radio, get them good and solid in his head and then sing them while he swept the floor and washed the dishes and hung the laundry.

Steve liked to tease Bucky that he couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but Bucky’s fingers carding through his own sweat-soaked hair while he had a fever as Bucky closed his own eyes and leaned his head back against the wall made the singing much better. It wasn’t quite a drowning alley cat, he conceded. He could sleep to it.

* * *

Bucky still can't sing. Sam can sing. Nat can, but prefers not to. Steve can, but doesn't much.

Sam coaxes Bucky into harmonizing in the kitchen while Bucky's on knives and Sam's on the skillet, and Nat watches Steve slowly drop off to sleep on the arm of the couch like a melting ice cream cone.


	19. No Press, Not Ever

“So, you two are dating. That’s new, isn’t it?”

Captain America and Bucky Barnes exchange a long, unsmiling look. Falcon, off camera, pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We’re married,” Barnes says, flat and deadpan. “We’ve been married since July.”

“Birthday present,” Captain America says, smiling tightly. “We’ve been together since ‘39.”

“Give or take,” Barnes says, shrugging.

“Boyfriend, though. The boyfriend’s new,” Captain America smiles, slow and dangerous, and Falcon cringes, closing his eyes and counting backwards from a hundred.

“We had a girlfriend before,” Barnes adds, with a smile that looks like he practices it while he cleans his rifle.

“She was  _my_  girl,” Captain America says, and Barnes shrugs.

The interviewer is clearly struggling. “I see. So- um. Your- your boyfriend, does he- I mean, you two-”

“He won’t move in with us,” Captain America says, blue eyes wide and innocent.

“We’re horrible to live with,” Barnes says, smirking, leaning back in his chair. “Coffee cups everywhere. Cigarettes on the fire escape. Paint on the carpet.”

“Cats,” Captain America says pointedly. “Three. Hair on everything.”

“Ah! The- the cats. They’re yours, aren’t-”

“They’re mine,” Barnes corrects. “They  _tolerate_  Rogers. They’re  _my_  cats.”

“His Instagram is public,” Captain America points out. “Those really are his pictures. Those cats are his children.”

“Winter’s Children,” Barnes says mysteriously, staring off into the distance.

 Captain America elbows him in the ribs.

“Right, so, um. We have another Avenger with us today, um, your colleague-”

“ _Boyfriend_ ,” Barnes and Captain America correct automatically.

The studio is dead silent. Falcon sighs as he walks out, goes to sit beside Barnes, who immediately moves so he’s forced to sit between them. Barnes and Captain America instantly go from dangerously tight to loose-limbed and bedroom eyed. Falcon shakes his head.

“Can’t take these two anywhere. Just ask me everything, they’ll troll you all day. Jerks.”


	20. Overwhelmed

“One of us,” Sam mumbles, “needs to move.”

Bucky tightens his arms around Sam’s neck and doesn’t say a word, his face hidden in Sam’s throat and his own hair.

Steve laughs softly, high and disbelieving, giving his hips the tiniest shift, watching Sam’s eyes roll back until his own do, too, and his bottom lip catches in his teeth.

“You okay?” Sam asks Bucky when he gets his breath back, digging his fingers shallowly into Bucky’s skin.

There’s silence and stillness until Bucky nods, and then Sam shifts his hips and Steve moans out loud, digging into Bucky’s until he gasps, leaving half moon nail crescents and fingerprint bruises.

“Holy shit,” Sam manages, licking his lips. “Buck?”

Bucky’s voice is a croak. “M'fine. I’d be, nnn, better if you, ngh, big-dicked bastards’d sh'up n'fuck me.”

“You hearing this jackass?” Sam asks Steve.

“All I’m hearing is my pulse in my ears,” Steve pants. “N'another reason we gotta, hmm, keep ‘im off the Internet.”

“I’m sure one of us would’ve thought of this, anyway,” Sam returns breathlessly. “Probably you.”

“Steve’d wannit in his mouth,” Bucky says, squirming and making them both groan. “Now get a move on, goddamnit, I already came and I’m already sore and I ain’t doing any more of the work. Fuck’s sake.”


End file.
